Word of the Dragon
by The Shadows Will
Summary: A few journal entries from the Dragonborn. Warning: There be spoilers.


**Word of the Dragon**

* * *

 _Today I journey with my companions to face the World Eater in Sovngarde. It sounds to me like a tall tale a bard would weave for young children. Atop the backs of the Dragons Paarthurnax and Odahviing we shall fly off to do battle with a legend in the land of the God Shor. With me my faithful Housecarl Lydia forever bearing my burdens, Vilkas and Farkas Companions in truth, Ulfric Stormcloak the would-be King, and Aranea Lenith the last Priestess of Azura. We shall ride into legend as either the conquering heroes or the fools who thought themselves capable of matching Alduin. I leave this as evidence of our choice to to stand tall as proud warriors of Skyrim and of Tamriel._

* * *

 _It is done. The World Eater is defeated, but not I think dead. There was no soul for me to consume, his hide and bones burned to ash then were swept away by the ethereal winds of Sovngarde. Can you truly kill the World Eater? We lost many to the Black Dragon. Both Odahviing and Paarthurnax were unable to journey with us to the final confrontation, lacking such destructive power on our side was a heavy blow. If not for the endless horde of honored dead within Shor's Hall we would not have succeeded. I along with my companions fought side by side with legends such as Olaf One-eye, Jurgen Windcaller, and even Ysgramor himself. Like an endless tide the great warriors of the past poured out through the Hall of Valor and did battle with the most ancient of foes._

 _The skill of arms that I bore witness to in that sacred place will reside with me to my last breath. No words could possibly describe the abilities of those brave men and women. Many were consumed or killed by Alduin in this mythical place where the mortal realm did not bind vast amounts of his power. It was the combined might of hundreds of users of the Voice that brought the World Bane low. Crippling his wings and robbing him of his flight was what won us the battle. Like a horde of ants we converged upon his form hacking and slashing hoping to end the wyrm. As if directed by the hands of fate itself I was the one who struck the final blow, wielding Volendrung I was able to crush the bones of his spine below the base of his skull._

 _Of those that journeyed with me Ulfric and Farkas were slain only to be reborn in Sovngarde as the Honored Dead. For our actions each one of my surviving companions was awarded with something, I dare not ask what as this trial was unlike any other I have encountered to compare rewards would be to cheapen them. I myself was given the ability to call forth the shade of any warrior in Sovngarde to fight besides me. Before Tsun sent us back Ulfric asked a boon of me for the price of his help and death. He asked that I help restore Skyrim to what it once was before it was splintered by civil war._

* * *

 _I had thought that my role as the Dragonborn had come to a close with the defeat of Alduin, I was wrong. With each telling of my journey my legend grew until it reached the shores of Solstheim, there it found the ear of Miraak. He felt affronted by the masses calling me Dragonborn so he engineered a confrontation. Into the depths of Apocrypha Lydia and I were forced to tread to find him. Along the way my power grew. From the Black Books of Hermaeus Mora I gained the ability to wield Magic. As a Dragonborn I learned learned new words of power. Some of which were so terrifyingly in their scope and power that I have not since used them for it is my sincere belief that they should best be lost to history. Others gave me a form closer to that of a Dragon. We did battle with him and his dragon thralls only to come out of the incident victorious. It appears to me now that the whole event was put in motion by Hermaeus Mora, as to what purpose I do not know. I have since searched through every source I could for tale of his deeds but Miraak the First Dragonborn remains a mysterious figure in history._

* * *

 _For years I was busy mending the broken land of Skyrim, putting down bandits, putting down petty squabbles between Jarls, and unifying the people under one name. It was within this time that Ragnar Torenson, Dragonborn, and Ysmir became the High King of Skyrim. If not for the presence of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater I fear even now I would be trying to unify my homeland. With my ascendance to the throne and relocation to the Blue Palace I was forced to confront a troubling part of Skyrims past. It seems that Pelagius the Mad was driven into insanity by the Madgod himself. At the end of the ordeal a few things became clear to me. Sheogorath had indeed been replaced by the Hero of Kvatch and Jyggalag had been freed. This new Madgod was of a lighter tone than the previous and was in some way atoning for his predecessors transgressions. I was given the Wabbajack for my efforts, I have locked the staff in my lowest and most secure vault where I hope it will never see the light of day again._

* * *

 _With the assassination of Emperor Titus Meade II the world fell into chaos once again. It was later learned it was the work of the Dark Brotherhood in an attempt to relive their glory days. The Empire crumbled within months of the Emperors death, his heir was unable to manage the internal and external strains the position forced upon him. It looked as if the Aldmeri Dominion would swoop in and seize the everything. It is fortunate that a civil war rendered them inert. A group of scholars and mages uncovered the truth of the Void Nights. As it turned out it was a Thalmor plot that went awry, but ended up leading to Elsweyr joining the Dominion. With the plot uncovered the Khajiit seceded, violently._

 _It was during this time that a coven of Vampires were attempting to bring eternal darkness upon all of Tamriel. My hand was forced and the Dragonborn once again took to the field of battle, accompanied by my ever faithful companion Lydia. Oddly enough it was one from within their own numbers that helped prevent the Unending Kingdom of Night. As a minor side note it should be noted that a Falmer has been found. Not one of those twisted wretches scouring the Skyrim underground but a true Snow Elf._

* * *

 _It finally occurred to me that Lydia had not been by my side through everything solely due too duty and loyalty. I have taken Lydia as wife and have her rule as Queen by my side. Our marriage and subsequent appointment to Queen was met with mixed reactions. Many wish I took a more diplomatic approach to my marriage and married someone who would benefit the Kingdom. But most of the common folk saw me wedding Lydia, a woman who helped slay Alduin, as something out of a song. Our daughter Helga was born a little over a year after the wedding._

* * *

 _The surviving government of Cyrodil has asked for Skyrims help in repelling the Aldmeri. I called a moot to determine the course Skyrim would take. In the Mead Hall of the Companions every Jarl, Great House, and Faction was represented. Skyrim would march to war once again. Any man or woman capable of wielding a weapon was given the chance to fight under the banner of the Dragon King. Any criminal was given the chance for a pardon by joining the growing army. Almost all of the remaining bandit groups that had survived in Skyrim joined with us, it seemed they needed a purpose in their life and this war fulfilled that need. A few of the more violent Dragons had agreed to accompany us on our journey. I left Lydia and Jarl Balgruuf in control of Skyrim as I lead the army south. With me and the Dragons the forces of the Dominion were quickly turned aside. What I thought would take years took months. Upon relieving the Imperial city I was named Emperor._

* * *

 _We continued to march against the elves. As we entered Elsweyr and then Valenwood we were not seen as invading army but as liberating saviors. It seems that the oppressive yolk of the Thalmor was less well received than was thought. It was at this point that Black Marsh, High Rock, and Hammerfell forces joined with us. Our forces fell on the Summerset Isles like a hammer on glass. Any Thalmor or Thalmor sympathizers were summarily butchered, it was not my proudest moment. While searching through the records of the Thalmor leaders their true goals were made clear to us. The destruction of the Towers, the very anchors of the physical world, and the return to Aetherius. My previous notions of regret of butchering the Thalmor were forgotten. We moved to stabilize Tamriel, both politically and metaphysically. While away from Skyrim trouble was brewing. The Blades, an ancient order of dragon hunters and royal guards sought to kill Paarthurnax for his actions prior to the Dragon War. The plan was foiled but the death of the Greybeard Einarth was the price. The order of the Blades was scoured from existence; to say that attacking the Greybeards, the most holy order in Skyrim, was a foolish action was an understatement. A similar plot was hatched by the Dark Brotherhood to assassinate my wife and child. It too was averted, but this time at the cost of the life of Jarl Balgruuf. My response has become a cautionary tale to many. I have taken their sacrificial blade as a trophy and their heads as punishment. The desecrated corpse of the night mother decorates the walls of Solitude._

* * *

 _The first time I absorbed the soul of a dragon I knew it changed me forever, but I had no way of knowing to what extent. As the years past and I settled into my position as Emperor I began to notice time marched on for everyone but me. My children grew to adults and married, my wife aged, my friends grew old, and my body seemed to take no notice. I look today as I did thirty years ago. At first I thought it my parentage, my mother being half elf I thought I might expect a longer life than most Nords. But I was wrong, it was after a conversation with Paarthurnax that I discovered the secret behind my lack of aging. Dragons are eternal, outside the flow of time he had told me. My soul is that of a Dragon. With each Dragon soul I consume I become stronger, and over the years I have consumed many. During the days of Alduin I fought and killed twelve dragons, not including the World Eater. When I defeated Miraak I took his soul too and all the Dragons he had killed. I estimate around twenty or more made up his power. Since I became High King no less than twenty six dragons have fallen to my Hammer. Few dragons have the resolve to meditate on the words of power like Paarthurnax and turn aside their nature of conquest and power. Will I be doomed to walk these lands forever? Will I bear witness to the end of time where Alduin is reborn and destroys this world?_

* * *

 _That old Orc I met all those years ago had the right idea. Die a good death so that you do not waste away. The problem is that I am to most Men and Mer unkillable. My skin is like Steel my bones Ebony. With my bare hands I can crush rocks to dust. With my Voice I can shake mountain. With my voice I can call upon armies. My wife and children have long passed on. I approach my three hundredth year with no end in sight. While I retain the title Emperor I let my many times great grandchild rule as regent. When one has nothing but time on their hands one must keep themselves busy. I have explored my Magic that was unlocked by the Black Books all those years ago. I do not claim to be a genius or prodigy with the magical arts but given enough time even a carpenters son can become an Archmage._

* * *

 _I keep myself busy with trade crafts these days. After I grew bored of Magic I returned to my roots and took up wood working. Seventy years I dedicated to carpentry alone. As I did with many other professions. I usually anonymously auction off my works just to see what preaction they generate, after spending hundreds of years refining my skills I can safely say my work sells for a tidy sum._

* * *

 _My monotony has been broken up finally. The Sload have once again set their sights on Tamriel. I shall once again don my weapons and armor. Let us see if these creatures can entertain me._

* * *

 _I have crushed the Sload and have all but ended their ambitions for generations to come. It seems the Daedric Prince Meridia was pleased with my extermination of the Sload's Necromantic Cabals. She has rewarded me with Dawnbreaker under the promise that I remove all undead that comes before my eyes. During our brief interaction I found her to be pleasant company, I don't know why people are so terrified of the Daedric Princes. So far I have had dealings with Azura, Malacath, Hircine, Hermaeus Mora, Sheogorath, and Meridia. None of them seem to hide what they really are and what they really want which is a welcome reprieve from the politicians that infest the Imperial Capital. I think I shall search out the rest of the Deadric Princes if for no other reason than to alleviate the boredom._

* * *

 _I think I hate Molag Bal almost as much as I hate Peryite._

* * *

 _My wandering in search of the Daedric Princes have opened up new opportunities for me. I shall set out on a grand adventure and seek out sights no one has seen before._

* * *

 _Syrim is cold, Atmora is colder. I do not recommend you go there. Conversely Akavir is a beautiful place with a rich culture. If only there were no native inhabitants. I do not recommend you go there._

* * *

 _Some say that greatness is born, I have found this to be the furthest from the truth. Greatness is forged in the heat of the moment tempered by our actions and sharpened by the lives of those that surround us. Many see my rise to prominence and then to power as nothing more than destiny, an immutable fact foretold by the Elder Scrolls. They see me as Tiber Septim come again, a Nord proclaimed Dragonborn who would unite Tamriel under one banner. Some factions have begun to see me as Talos made flesh, a God King and have tried to bring worship of me to the masses. I have done what I can to suppress these notions. I am no god, and I have no designs to be one._

* * *

 _I grow weary of life. It is difficult to watch a friend wither and die before you. It is even worse to see it happen time and again. The only reason I believe I have stayed sane is because the Dragons are as eternal as I am. Constant discourse with Paarthurnax and Odahviing are all I have to look forward to these days. But even that has grown stale. It occurs to me that men are finite things and should not extend their lives past a few hundred years. As I watch as my twelve hundredth nameday passes my by I feel that my time has come to a close. My goal is Sovngarde, but I cannot find an opponent who can rival me. It is fortunate that I know the location of a portal that will take me there. The ruins of Skuldafn are my key to the end. I leave this collection of memories for any who might find a use for them. It seems the only enemy I cannot defeat is time._

 _ **Emperor Ragnar Torenson I. Dragon King of Skyrim.**_ _ **Dragonborn.**_ _ **Ysmir. Elvesbane.**_

* * *

A/N

I banged this out in a few hours. Its actually the precursor to another story i have floating around in my head. This little one-shot can be seen as stand alone where the Dragonborn finds peace in Sovngarde or jumps in the portal at Skuldafn and is flung into another universe. I figure its a passable start for a crossover.


End file.
